MARRIED FOR TIME

Chapter 2

Bastien Kade’s POV_

I stared at the rearview mirror, my grip tightening on the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. In the backseat, the drunk woman slept soundly, oblivious to the chaos she’d just introduced into my evening. The soft, rhythmic sound of her breathing filled the quiet luxury of the sedan, but it was the faint, glittering trace of dried tears on her cheeks that made me pause.

With a sharp exhale, I started the engine and shifted the car into drive with a frustrated jerk. I cursed myself under my breath. I should have let my assistant handle the property negotiations tonight. If I’d just stayed home, I wouldn’t be playing chauffeur to a beautiful, broken stranger in the middle of a downpour.

Taking her to a hotel was out of the question. The paparazzi hovered around the city like vultures, and the headlines wrote themselves: _The Almighty CEO of Sterling Enterprises Seen at Hotel with Mystery Woman._ My empire didn’t need that kind of cheap fabrication. No, the only logical option was my private estate—a sprawling, fortress-like penthouse that afforded absolute privacy.

By the time I pulled into the secure underground garage and carried her up to the guest bedroom, my patience was gone. She was deceptively light, but lifting her required a careful strength I wasn’t used to exerting. As I laid her down on the plush duvet, I ran a hand through my hair in frustration and turned to leave.

“I hate you…” she mumbled, a breathless, broken sigh slipping past her lips as she drifted deeper into sleep.

I froze at the doorway, a strange weight settling in my chest before I shook it off. I needed coffee.

As the machine hummed in the kitchen, the sharp vibration of my phone shattered the silence. I glanced at the screen and sighed when I saw the caller ID.

_Mother._

“Bastien,” her voice came through the line, using my middle name, sounding immediately fragile and stripped of its usual energy. “The doctors… they gave me the final results. I only have a little time left, sweetheart. A few years, at best.”

My heart stopped. “Mother, stop. This isn’t funny. You always joke about things like this to get my attention. If it’s about getting married, I’m not ready yet. Okay? When it’s time, I’m going to—”

Then the quiet, devastating sound of her crying broke through the speaker. It was a sound I’d never heard from her. The realization hit me like a physical blow—she wasn’t joking.

Panic overriding everything, I bolted from the penthouse and rushed to the hospital. The sterile corridors and the grim confirmation from her physician solidified the nightmare. She was dying. And her final wish was to see me settled. She wanted me married, to know I wouldn’t be entirely alone when she passed.

_A wedding._ I leaned back against the headrest of my car in the hospital parking lot, the weight of the world crushing down on my shoulders. I could find someone. A marriage of convenience, just for show, to give my mother peace of mind before the end. My mind spun in exhausted, desperate circles until darkness won, and I fell asleep slumped over the steering wheel.

---

The harsh morning sunlight was a brutal reminder of reality. Disoriented and exhausted, I drove back to the penthouse to change before heading to the office.

But as I stepped through the front doors, I caught movement in the foyer.

It was her. The stranger from last night was flushed, her clothes slightly rumpled, trying to sneak out of my home like a thief.

“Hiiiii,” she started, her voice tight as she tried to gather her dignity. “I… I apologize for the stress I caused you last night. But honestly, you should have looked at my ID and taken me to my own house instead of bringing me here.”

An ugly spark of annoyance flared in my chest. I’d spent the night in a hospital watching my mother weep, and now this girl was standing in my home, questioning my judgment after hijacking my car.

Before she could take another step, I lunged forward and grabbed her wrist to stop her. “Are you serious right now?” I growled, my voice dangerously low.

I heard her gasp, her breath catching as a sob rattled her shoulders, but her gray eyes flared with sudden, defensive fury.

Losing my temper, I let the cruelest words slip out. “Tell me, is this your usual routine? Slipping into a strange man’s car, demanding a ride, and expecting him to cater to you?”

_Crack._

The sharp impact of her palm against my cheek echoed through the foyer.

My head snapped to the side. I froze, stunned, my face burning. No one had ever dared to lay a hand on me.

When I looked back, tears streamed down her face, bright and angry. She didn’t look like a spoiled girl throwing a tantrum; she looked like someone who’d been dismantled.

“How dare you!” she yelled, her voice trembling with heartbreak and rage. “You know nothing about me! You don’t know what I lost yesterday, or the kind of hell I’m walking through right now! Yeah, I was drunk and out of it last night. But you knew exactly what you were doing when you said that to me.”

For the first time, the certainty I carried withered. Looking at the raw grief in her eyes, a heavy wave of guilt settled in my chest.

But the moment shattered.

The heavy double doors swung open. A woman stepped in, her hand gripping the fingers of a small, quiet girl. She stopped, her eyes darting between my burning cheek and the furious stranger across from me. She frowned.

“Bastien?” her voice murmured, hesitant and strained. “What… what are you doing?”

My jaw clenched as recognition hit me like a blow.

_Mireya._

She was my childhood sweetheart. The girl I’d once planned a future with, back when I was just a man with big dreams and an unproven empire. But the moment she tasted fame as an actress, she left without a backward glance to date a wildly popular actor. I still remembered the cruel words she’d hurled at me on her way out, mocking my worth because her new boyfriend was richer.

The Mireya standing in my foyer now looked nothing like that glamorous starlet. Her clothes were simple, lacking the designer luxury she used to flaunt, and she looked far from rich.

Despite the history between us, she offered a fragile, pleading smile. “I’m sorry for coming unannounced, Bastien,” she whispered, tears rolling down her face as she gestured to the child beside her. “But you need to know—your daughter is yours.”

A sharp, mocking scoff cut through the silence.

My head snapped toward the wall. The stranger hadn’t moved. She leaned against the corridor wall a few feet away, watching the scene unfold with disdain written across her face.

A bitter smirk touched her lips as her gray eyes locked onto mine. “Well,” she said, voice dripping with venom. “So this is who you are. You throw out your own kid and pretend it’s not your problem.”

The guilt I’d felt toward her vanished, replaced by a cold wave of fury. I didn’t have the capacity for her judgment while my past and present were colliding.

Without a word, I crossed the distance in three strides, grabbed her arms, and pulled her into the secondary hallway. Before she could protest, I shut the heavy door between us, locking her out.

Turning back, I faced Mireya with a furious glare, the cold mask of the Sterling Enterprises CEO locking into place.

“Are you out of your mind?” I demanded, my voice low and lethal. “How dare you walk into my home and make a claim like that? You left me, Mireya. You made it clear I wasn’t worth your time because your new boyfriend was richer. You humiliated me!”

“Bastien, please, just listen to me—”

“No!” The built-up tension from my mother’s diagnosis, the sleepless night, and the chaos of the morning snapped. “Take the child back to her father! Go back to the millionaire you traded me for and leave me out of your mess!”

With a desperate sob, Mireya reached into her bag and threw a folded packet of documents at my chest. “Please, just look at it! I wouldn’t lie about this! We have nowhere else to go, Bastien. Please, just take us back!”

The papers hit my jacket and fluttered toward the floor. I caught them instinctively, my fingers crushing the medical letterhead. At the sound of my shouting, the little girl burst into tears, hiding her face in her mother’s coat.

Mireya searched my face for any shred of the man she used to know. Seeing nothing but stone, her expression broke. She scooped the sobbing girl into her arms and rushed out through the doors.

The click of the lock echoed through the high ceilings, leaving the foyer silent.

I stood alone, the weight of the penthouse settling over me. I forced my gaze down to the crushed pages in my hand and scanned the clinical text of a paternity test.

I stared at the results, unsure if the child was mine. She was a stranger to me—I’d never seen her before, and I didn’t even know her name. In my world, documents could be forged. Paternity results could be bought. I couldn’t trust a word Mireya said, not after how she’d discarded me.

Needing the truth, I pulled out my phone and dialed a secure line.

“Sir?” my head of security answered instantly.

“I need a full sweep on Mireya,” I said, my voice flat. “Her finances over the last five years, medical records, who she’s been living with, and why she’s broke. I want a full report on my desk within the hour. And verify the DNA results.”

I ended the call and slid the phone away. The silence offered no answers.